


Effortless

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, John Watson is Crazy Knocked Up, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega John Watson, Omega Verse, naughty omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> He'd been having a rather lucid week after The Gelato Incident, and even worked a case briefly, but now John seemed determined to undo all that. </i>
</p><p>The Naughty Omega in John is missing his Alpha. Be careful what you wish for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Effortless

**Author's Note:**

> I love how unpopular the last fic was even tho it's about someone knowing they can only fantasize about Sherlock as he's solidly attached to John... too close for comfort for the hardcore Johnlockers I guess! :)
> 
> Hopefully this will cleanse your palettes...

“Just how big are you going to get?” Sherlock cried. He had looked up from his reading only to be stunned by the garment John was holding up. It had been specially created by Mrs. Harris for his outrageous omega. “You can’t possibly fill that!” Sherlock added in a panicky voice. John smiled, a naughty look brewing in his eye.

“Don’t be so sure,” he said, "you knocked me up good and proper this time."

"John, that is not a piece of clothing, that - that is a tent!"

John's smile widened. He draped the enormous top across himself, stretched it right around his stomach.

"Only a few of my things fit me now," he insisted, "and I'm still growing."

Sherlock swallowed and closed his eyes.

He'd been having a rather lucid week after The Gelato Incident, and even worked a case briefly, but now John seemed determined to undo all that. Sherlock pondered his own biology yet again. He and John both well knew, it took nothing for John to rile him up in his condition. Sherlock was constantly on the edge of a precipice, which John could (and would) with great enjoyment, push him off. _Effortless_ he thought uneasily. He and John also knew Sherlock would take the plunge into his alpha side, would always, happily jettison his rational self for John. That he should be so predictably susceptible, vulnerable, enamoured, left Sherlock vexed, perplexed, and terribly turned on.

Sherlock felt the book he’d been reading (its author and contents completely forgotten) drop from his hands.

"Why." He muttered aloud. He could feel the slightly dazed expression on his face. He slid his hand over his crotch. He was already well agitated, quickly growing under the black fabric of his trousers.

"You want to know why?" John asked. Sherlock had taken the bait and now the naughty look on his face was there to stay. He swayed his heavy body back and forth and began to hum softly.

The t-shirt he had on was indeed too small; it was bunched and straining, riding up his swollen belly. The bottom curve of John's stomach was exposed; Sherlock couldn't miss the taut flesh and dark centreline if he'd wanted to. He was sure John had put it on for this very moment.

"John." Sherlock breathed, "Come here."

John obediently waddled over towards Sherlock's easy chair. His hips had widened over the course of the pregnancy, so that now when he walked it was with his legs apart. He held himself in a horse-stance as if to make room for the impossible load of his belly, it's weight sitting deep in his pelvis.

John stopped short, just out of Sherlock's reach, and slid his shirt farther up. Sherlock stared at the distended flesh, at John's inverted navel. John's skin was still smooth and perfect, despite the incredible size he'd become.

"You look like you're about to burst." Sherlock breathed.

"It's because I'm full of alphas." John said.

"What?"

John ran his hands over his belly emphatically.

"Yes! Every single one of them is an alpha. You've stuffed me full of them, five oversized babies. All alphas, just like you. A whole litter of them just making me get bigger and heavier every day."

"You - you don't really know that..." Said some pedantic remnant of Sherlock's brain. His face began to flush with a deep seated sense of alpha pride he couldn't control, and the embarrassment that came with it. His breath ran ragged as he watched John run his hands over the surface of his stomach over and over, making small, happy sounds. "I do know, I can tell," said John, "I knew it when you fucked me, the night you knocked me up. I felt it - you'd dumped so much come in me... I knew you were getting me pregnant, I knew it would be a big one. I've known it the whole time. Your body’s claiming mine in every way it can outside of a bond bite..."

John looked at Sherlock lovingly, and took a small step forward, still remaining slightly out of range.

"They're bloody huge, and hyperactive, and I can tell: they're all alphas like you."

Sherlock reached out, his fingertips just managing to brush John's swollen belly. John shivered with delight at the sensation.

"You're trembling." John said softly.

"Your fault." choked Sherlock, "you're driving me mad with lust..."

"Your fault too, you big alpha bastard. I can barely walk because of you. I'm horny all the time because of you. I can't stop growing, can barely close my legs because of you...and I don't even want to."

Sherlock moaned and stroked himself through his trousers, his thumb moving over the wet patch that was spreading quickly. He suddenly felt quite drunk.

"I can't stop fantasizing about the birth. I get hard just thinking about it." John said.

"Me - me too - John- please- come here-" Sherlock said, voice cracking slightly.

John grinned wickedly. He took a step backwards.

"Shall I try it on then?"

“What? ” Sherlock growled in desperate frustration. He fumbled with his belt. “Come sit on my lap.” He demanded.

John instead began to wriggle his shirt off with some difficulty. As he stretched to get it over his head, his belly was fully exposed. The sight of John’s overgrown womb stretching and pulling against gravity as his arms reached upwards made Sherlock let out an involuntary whine. He slapped a hand over his mouth.

"What was that?" Asked John.  

"Nothing!" insisted Sherlock.

John smirked.

"Just think, soon I'll go into labour. I'll have to push five big alpha babies out of my body... yours, your oversized offspring." He said. He began shrugging on the new garment. Sherlock’s trembling only increased as he watched John dress. The shirt was made of a thin, white, stretchy fabric. It looked bit like a hospital gown, yet it hugged John's body, exaggerating his middle so that John looked even larger somehow. There was an erotic nature to the way the fabric stretched around him, all the contours of his belly and hips highlighted.

"Mrs... Harris ...did not... make that..." Sherlock challenged. Whatever clever thing he'd planned on backing it up with was lost as John gave Sherlock an extra-naughty grin and slid his track bottoms down a bit. John had forgone wearing pants some time ago and his erection popped out enthusiastically. It was just visible under his stomach: riding against the curve of his lower belly, flushed and pink against the white fabric of his new shirt. Sherlock felt himself salivating,  swallowed audibly.

"I've been suffering growth spurts." John said, "That’s your doing too. I saw your blood work. Your body's making so much growth hormone along with everything else now, every time you fuck me they get a little bigger... Soon they'll be too big, and I'll barely be able to get them out at all." He shook his head. He rubbed both his hands in wide circles over his belly, then slid them around to his lower back.

"You've really done it this time." he scolded.

"John! Come- here- sit on my la-"

“Cock," John teased, "You mean to say ‘come sit on my coc - Ah!” he cried in sharp surprise, for with a wild look Sherlock had jumped up and thrown himself on top of John.

"I said come here!"

John yelped as he was pulled to the floor.

A moment later he was on his forearms and knees, hips up, face and belly against the carpeting, his alpha rapidly mounting him in great agitation.

"Yeah," John breathed, "that's it, fuck me, get them out, you big alpha bastard, fuck me until I burst open..."

Sherlock was making a series of incomprehensible sounds; rambling complaints mixed with victorious growls. He tugged angrily at the ill-fitting track bottoms that John was wearing, snarling at them as though they were a personal affront. When he managed to get one leg off entirely he laughed. He roughly spread John's legs apart and entered him with a slightly confused, if not triumphant, groan.

“Oh my god…” John moaned, “There’s no bloody room between you and them!”

“Full of alphas..."  rumbled Sherlock.

"Christ, yes... six of them." John grunted in self indulgence. He pushed himself back into the growling, happy mess he'd made.

+++

"Let me up."

"No."

John was finally seated on Sherlock's lap, facing outwards; belly bulging and legs splayed, utterly filled by his alpha. They had been like that for the better part of twenty minutes.

Sherlock held John's gravid form, kept him there happily. He’d wrangled his naughty omega into that position after taking him on the floor, and the divan, and the floor again. Now he seemed to be stuck in the moment: arms possessively wrapped around John's giant belly from behind, his big cock impaling. His face was buried in John's shoulder and neck.

Sherlock sighed happily. He wanted nothing more than to sit like so, occasionally stroking John’s belly and drinking his scent in. John sighed at his predicament and wriggled a bit, causing both of them to moan.

"It's getting... a bit ...uncomfortable..." John complained, “... and you’ve ruined my new shirt.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

“No need to sound so chuffed about it.”

“Mmm.”

John shifted again, more cautiously this time. Sherlock pushed his pelvis upwards once and John groaned and instinctively wriggled at the itch he couldn't scratch, stirring up more helpless desire.

"Please love, just fuck me, this is torture!" he finally cried.

Sherlock only chuckled and nibbled John’s earlobe with a possessive growl.

He couldn’t conjure the right words even if he wanted to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I wish I was doing this as a comic. For instance, Sherlock starting off the story sitting and reading like a civilised human but ending sitting and holding John in an erotic submissive position, as a love sick alpha, would just work better visually. Sigh.


End file.
